


#2: Ass Worship

by d20crunch



Series: Kinktober Prompts [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Rimming, ass worship, listen i'm so weak for these old dads in love okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d20crunch/pseuds/d20crunch
Summary: Quinn does so much around the house, and there's really only one way Cyrus knows to thank him.





	#2: Ass Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring The Dads (figuratively) of our main D&D boys! Quinn and [Cyrus](https://toyhou.se/3870644.cyrus) are two old men disgustingly in love ;o;

It takes Cyrus most of the morning and a lot of annoyed groaning, but eventually he manages to roll himself out of bed and stumble downstairs. He’s greeted by the smell of fresh baked bread, and follows the enchanting aroma to the kitchen. Rounding the corner, he finds Quinn standing at the sink, humming one of Saxxon’s old songs and swaying to the beat.

Cyrus allows himself a moment to enjoy the sight - Quinn’s messy ponytail, the soft pants hanging low on his hips, the cute way he pushes his glasses back up his nose when they slip down - but it doesn’t take long for him to get impatient. Quinn is just _too_ beautiful and _too_ perfect - how can he be expected to keep his hands off him for very long?

“You’re up early,” Cyrus says, voice still husky with sleep. Quinn tilts his head to acknowledge him but doesn’t turn away from the dishes. “You make those fancy muffins too? The blueberry ones that Saxx and Teagan love?” Cyrus walks the handful of steps to slide his arms around Quinn’s waist, pressing a soft kiss to where he can reach on his neck.

“Saxxon looked a bit down last night so I wanted to make them something special,” Quinn says thoughtfully, tilting his head a bit more to briefly press his cheek to Cyrus’ in greeting. “And I’m _not_ up early, you just sleep like you’re paid to do it.”

Cyrus can’t help a soft chuckle, remarking, “maybe if _someone_ didn’t keep me up all night I wouldn’t be so tired,” and laughs again at Quinn’s clipped, “maybe _someone_ shouldn’t take two hours to get someone else’s pants off.”

“Cut me some slack love, you look so damn sexy in these…” Cyrus’ hands drop to the loose waistband, tracing along the edge and making Quinn shiver. “Can’t blame me for wanting you to keep them on. You know I can get clothes off fast when it counts.”

“Can you?” Quinn teases, looking over his shoulder to give Cyrus a playful smirk. “I think the fastest was still about… twenty minutes, I believe.”

Cyrus snorts, mock offended as he grumbles, “Nothing wrong with taking your time with a man you love”. He frowns for a moment before a smile starts to tug his lips.

“Are you plotting something naughty?” Quinn says, eyebrow quirking in challenge.

“I should thank you for breakfast,” Cyrus rumbles, that husky edge to his voice now completely intentional instead of just from being tired. “Would that be… acceptable to you?” Cyrus’ hands slip carefully over the material of Quinn’s soft pants, brushing down his thighs and back up until Quinn sighs quietly.

“Yes, I don’t really feel appreciated for all the work I do in this house,” Quinn says, a touch breathlessly. He carefully sets down the dish he was washing so his hands are free to shadow Cyrus’, guiding them to rub softly at his inner thighs.

“I appreciate you _so_ much babe,” Cyrus murmurs, pressing a line of kisses down Quinn’s neck, the fabric of his shirt, sinking lower until he’s on his knees. Quinn automatically moves to brace his hands on the counter, hips instinctively tilting up as Cyrus’s warm breath ghosts over the strip of exposed skin on his lower back. Cyrus makes a low, delighted noise as Quinn’s body falls into the familiar position, loving how second nature it is to offer his ass up for Cyrus’ appreciation. He brushes that sliver of skin at Quinn’s back before hooking his fingers in the hem of his pants, taking his time to tug it over the rise of Quinn’s ass.

As each inch is exposed, Cyrus pauses to press a wet kiss to the warm skin. Each pass of his lips makes Quinn shiver, gripping the edge of the counter tight even as the rest of his body relaxes under Cyrus’ touch. As soon as the hem of Quinn’s pants reach his thighs they drop away, too loose to stay up without a voluptuous ass in the way. Feeling Cyrus’ eager breath against his skin is _so_ delicious, and Quinn is quick to tilt his hips up even more sharply - an irresistible offer.

After a low, appreciative groan Cyrus kneads his hands up Quinn’s thighs and over his hips to finally squeeze his ass. They both moan at the feeling, Cyrus immediately leaning in to drop hot, open-mouth kisses wherever his hands aren’t. His fingers press in firmly, massaging as much as simply appreciating, and coaxes soft whines of pleasure from the man above him. A particularly deep press into the muscle makes Quinn cry out, followed quickly by his gasped plea of “Cyrus, more”.

“Gotta give this beautiful ass the attention it deserves,” Cyrus growls, though it’s so excited it’s almost a purr. “Look at it… absolutely perfect. Could bounce a coin off this thing.” He gives it another hard squeeze until Quinn cries out again, arms starting to shake enough he has to cross them on the counter instead. “Just a little pink from where I was pounding against it last night…” Cyrus smirks into his kiss against the reddened skin, cutting off Quinn’s scoffed, “It barely hurts at all” with a light nip that provokes a much louder moan.

“Cyrus, _more_ ,” Quinn says again, much more breathy this time. “I believe my ass has been properly worshiped. If you would please -“ He loses his words in a startled cry, arms so weak he has to pillow them underneath his head and lay his chest on the counter. Cyrus’ tongue laps again over his hole, drawing a long, wet line up from his perineum and back down again. It’s a slow torture, so hot and wet yet barely satisfying, and it isn’t long until Quinn breathes “ _Cyrus_ “ again.

Knowing that tone means business, Cyrus teases the tip of his tongue at Quinn’s hole, pressing in just slightly before twirling around the rim again. Quinn breathes hard, rocking backward a bit to encourage Cyrus deeper, but his tongue just dances on the edge of unsatisfying. Insufferably patient, Cyrus slowly unravels his trembling half-Elf bit by bit until he’s a gasping puddle of goo under his skilled attentions. Every flick, every curl of his slick tongue makes Quinn moan for more, but it’s the reverent way Cyrus runs his hands over the curves of his ass that makes Quinn blush.

“Cyrus…” Quinn manages between harsh breaths. His voice is still wrecked, but it’s softer, less needy. The change in tone makes Cyrus pause, pulling away from his tongue’s eager teasing to press a kiss to the base of Quinn’s spine instead. “Did you… just want to appreciate my ass, sweetheart? You have an incredible tongue but if all you wanted was to worship on your knees for me…” Quinn tilts his head to look over his shoulder down at Cyrus, giving him a very hazy but genuine smile. Cyrus’ icy blue eyes are soft with his affection, making Quinn’s heart flutter happily in his chest.

“I want you to feel good and appreciated, love,” Cyrus murmurs simply. Even as he says it his hands start massaging up the backs of Quinn’s thighs to cup his ass, mirroring the half-Elf’s soft exhale as his fingers press in more firmly. “If you’d let me, I’d be the most pious soul you ever met - praying at this altar every waking moment of my day.” Quinn laughs, trying to imagine Cyrus in any religious context and quite unable to do so. His big rugged man, reserved and chaste?

“You are certainly devoted, I will give you that,” Quinn hums. “And you’ve never once disappointed me, my sweet angel… but I should still test your devotion. Perhaps you will demonstrate again how you would like to worship at my altar?”

A smile threatens to curl Cyrus’ lips but he bites it back, simply nodding as his hands slide _so slowly_ over the reddened rise of Quinn’s ass and back down again, a careful knead of the muscle punctuated occasionally by a wet kiss. Quinn’s head falls back as he lets his eyes slip shut in pleasure, soft noises that are almost a whimper accompanying the new tremble in his legs. Cyrus’s voice is low, almost lost under Quinn’s higher-pitched cries.

“Anything for you Quinn, my heart, my soul, my life.”


End file.
